


There's A Room Where The Light Won't Find You

by Ambryatts (Arcturus_Sinclair)



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Bloodplay, Knifeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 00:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3229316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcturus_Sinclair/pseuds/Ambryatts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Ambrose should have known better than to let a man like Bray Wyatt anywhere near his skin with a blade.</p><p>(Too bad Dean's not known for his brilliant decisions.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's A Room Where The Light Won't Find You

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please read the warnings. This isn't for the faint of heart.

“You know, darlin', I could rip you open...and you can't do a single thing to stop me.” The words were whispered, the sharp sting of the blade following suit.

If anyone asked Dean Ambrose, he'd deny that anything that was currently taking place had ever happened. He'd never willingly allowed himself to be tied up by Bray Wyatt, who certainly didn't have a knife. And Dean mention that he'd never, ever be naked while that happened?

Well, in Dean's defense, he'd started out clothed. But Bray cut them off, coming very close to cutting his dick off when he cut through the fabric of his underwear. And now Bray was straddling Dean's legs, the sliver of the blade glinting in the light as Bray stared down at Dean, looking as if he wanted to swallow the other man whole. The knife itself was nothing special, a silver hilt and silver blade. But the one holding it? He was definitely special, and not in a way that could be defined as good or bad in Dean's eyes, he just _was_.

And currently, Bray was moving the knife away from the slash mark he'd just created on Dean's chest, to press it against Dean's neck. Dean shuddered, groaning in the back of his throat. Bray just chuckled, making a shushing noise.

“Shh, darlin', don't move now. We wouldn't want you to bleed out, would we? Actually, you'd probably get off on that, wouldn't you, Dean? Your dying breaths would be you begging me to let you come,” Bray murmured, trailing the knife over the hollow of Dean's throat, the point pressing just shy of cutting.

Dean glared at that; pushing himself up as much as he could, despite being cuffed to the bed and bared his teeth. He twisted, trying to throw Bray off, snarling. “Shut the fuck up, just shut up.” Bray moved quickly, quicker than a man his size should. He shoved Dean back, his arm pressing down on Dean's throat, dropping the knife next to Dean's head.

“So angry all the time, there's no need for it,” Bray replied, keeping his arm across Dean's throat, and using his free hand to yank Dean's hair. “I could make this so pleasurable for you, if you would just let me.” His hand moved away from Dean's hair, down to Dean's dick, just gliding his fingers over it a few times.

Dean squirmed, pushing at Bray's arm because the lack of oxygen was starting to make his vision blur around the edges. Bray chuckled, keeping his arm still for another moment before pulling it back to grab the knife again. Dean sucked in a breath, his body jerking with the force of it.

Bray leaned back, pulling himself off of Dean's body to make a crosshatch of small cuts over Dean's stomach. Dean groaned, rocking his hips up to rub his dick against Bray.

Bray pressed his fingers over the cuts, smearing the blood all over Dean's chest and Bray's fingers. He then pressed himself against Dean's body, dragging his still clothed hips over Dean's bare ones. --Did someone forget to mention that Bray was still fully clothed? Not that Dean was surprised in the least by that.

Dean pushed himself up, mouth latching onto Bray's. The kiss was more biting than anything else. He tried to push his tongue into Bray's mouth. Kissing—if it could even be called that—was Dean's one strange thing, he had to have his mouth somewhere. Ironic that he was tied up, cut up to hell, and he found _kissing_ to be weird. And some part of him knew that Bray would exploit that, use it to his advantage. Instead, Bray shoved Dean's head back, hard enough that it bounced off of the pillow, and ducked his head to sink his teeth into Dean's neck.

“Fuck,” Dean growled, rocking up yet again into Bray's body. It was good, it was so good, better than he could have ever expected someone like Bray Wyatt to be. But something was missing, it wasn't enough, he needed something more. He needed...well, he didn't know what he needed, but he knew he needed something, desperately. His eyes flicked up to Bray, and Bray pulled back.

“Was there something you needed, darlin'?” Dean made a noise in the back of his throat. If Dean couldn't even figure out what he needed, how was he supposed to articulate it? Instead he just pulled on the restraints, and rocked up against Bray.

Bray chuckled, pressing an oddly gentle kiss to Dean's forehead, one that made his skin burn white hot, before leaning over to remove the restraints. Dean didn't have much time to enjoy the freedom, as Bray moved, flipping Dean onto his back. Bray then slid off the bed, sliding his pants and underwear down. The next thing Dean knew, Bray was using one hand to press his face into the pillow, and his other to wrap around Dean's waist, pulling him up onto his knees and sliding in with one smooth motion.

Oh, somehow Bray managed to lubricate himself before entering him. Silent motherfucker...not that it was a bad thing in this case. Bray started moving, slamming into Dean hard. Dean groaned, the sound muffled by the pillow, and the fact that Bray had just leaned over Dean's back to murmur in his ear.

“Is this what you needed, boy? Did'ja need me to tear you apart from the inside out, to bury myself inside you until you've forgotten where you end and I begin? You needed someone to remind you that you're not fragile, that you can withstand anything. That you're not nearly as wrong as society says you are. And that's okay, I'm more than happy to provide that for you, darlin'.”

Dean moaned, he swore that he had a comeback planned, that he was going to tell Bray that he sure as hell didn't need him. But didn't he? Wasn't Bray the only one that could make Dean feel like this? Wasn't he the only one that Dean trusted to tear him apart and not hold back?

Dean wasn't sure at this point, everything was hazy and he just...couldn't think anymore. Not when Bray was slamming into him like he was trying to make Dean feel his dick in the back of his throat. Dean couldn't help the groans and growls that kept falling from his lips, and Bray wasn't exactly quiet either. Unfortunately, Dean was learning that Bray never quit talking, even when he was fucking Dean. It was all quiet nonsensical mumblings, with pet names peppered in.

Dean was just starting to be able to tune Bray out, focusing more on his voice than the actual words coming out of the bigger man's mouth.

But the next thing Dean knew, Bray had the knife again, and was sliding it over his shoulders, not cutting in yet. Bray's thrusts never ceased, even with the weapon in his hand. Dean arched into the knife as best he could.

“Come on, damn it,” he hissed, rocking back into Bray. “Or are you all talk?”

Bray grabbed his hair, yanking his head back to press the knife against his neck, stilling all movement. Dean's breathing stuttered, especially when the knife dug in enough to cut.

“That what you were lookin' for, darlin'? A reminder that I can always discard you, end your life, even in the middle of using you for my own pleasure? That I'm in control.” Bray's voice was quiet, his lips hovering by Dean's ear. His arm tightened around Dean's waist, then, suddenly starting to move again. The words shouldn't be getting to Dean, shouldn't be making his dick throb, but it was. It didn't help that Bray was biting down on his neck, drawing a groan out of Dean. It was ridiculous how just a little bit of well placed pain had him moaning like a damn bitch in heat. And Bray caught onto that quickly.

“See, I told you I could make you feel good.” Another nip to his neck, and a change of angle; hitting his prostate and causing Dean's head to drop against the pillow with a choked noise, the knife digging in further. Dean had actually forgotten that it was still there for a moment.

Bray pressed biting kisses to the back of Dean's neck, dropping the knife to press his fingers against the wound on Dean's neck. Dean groaned, leaning into Bray's fingers

“Bray...please...I need--” Dean groaned, not able to articulate what he needed. Bray chuckled, slowing for a moment.

“Yes, darlin'? What do you need?” Dean groaned, pushing his hips back into Bray's. He hoped Bray would take that for an answer, but of course not. Nothing was ever that simple with Bray. Instead of attempting to answer, Dean took matters into his own hands. Literally, in fact, by moving one hand to stroke his dick, until Bray pulled his hand away. Dean hissed, trying to touch himself again, until Bray wrapped his hand around Dean's dick, swiping his palm over the head to smear pre-cum over it, before stroking Dean in time with his thrusts.

Dean shuddered, rocking into Bray's hand, little noises falling from his mouth. If it had been anyone else he'd have been embarrassed, have tried to hide it. But there was something about Bray that _demanded_ every little noise. And Dean was helpless to do anything less than deliver.

Bray finally started moving even faster, no longer trying to drag this out. He sunk his teeth into whatever skin he could reach, leaving little crescent shapes all over Dean's neck and shoulders. Ones he knew damn well wouldn't heal before their next show. Dean shouldn't have been surprised that Bray was marking him up, and he sure as hell wasn't doing anything to stop him.

In fact, the added pain was pushing Dean closer and closer towards the edge

Dean whimpered, actually fucking _whimpered_ , realizing that he should probably warn Bray about how close he was. And he would have too, except Bray twisted his hand just so, combining it with another hard thrust. And that was it, Dean was coming all over Bray's hand and the bed below him.

It took Bray only a few more thrusts before he was following suit, his teeth sinking into Dean's shoulder so hard he broke the skin.  

Bray pulled out, and rolled off the bed. He swiped some tissues from off the table, cleaning himself up. He then slid his clothing back into place, chuckling. Dean shut his eyes, trying to ignore Bray, but the laughter just got louder. Bray scooped the knife up, playing the pretense of cleaning it. If Dean had opened his eyes. Poor, foolish Dean, thinking it would ever be safe to relax around someone like Bray Wyatt.

The slash of the knife across his throat reminded him harshly that he was never, ever safe around Bray.

**Author's Note:**

> The end. 
> 
> Or is it? (I know I know.) Anyway, thanks for reading, and kudos and reviews give me life because this fic literally took a week to write so. Please click that little kudos button if you liked it?


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